While the Unspeakable Perk was making his way down the dim and narrow trail, another equally weary figure shambled out from the main road upon the flats and made for the landing.  The apparel of Mr. Preston Fairfax Fitzhugh Carroll was in a condition that he would have deemed quite unfit for one of his station, had he been in a frame of mind to consider such matters at all.  He was not.  Affairs vastly more weighty and human occupied his mind.  What he most wished was to find Miss Polly Brewster and unburden himself of them.

At the entrance to the pier, he was detained by the American Consul.  Cluff came running down the long structure in great strides.

“Moses, Carroll!  I’m glad to see you!  Where’ve you been?”

A week earlier, the scion of all the Virginias would have resented this familiarity from a professional athlete.  But neither Mr. Carroll’s mind nor his heart was a sealed inclosure.  He had learned much in the last few days.

“Up on the mountain,” he said.  “For Heaven’s sake, give me a drink, Cluff!”

The other produced a flask.

“You do look shot to pieces,” he commented.  “Find Perk—­Pruyn?”

“Yes.  I’ll tell you later.  Where’s Miss Brewster?”

“In her stateroom.  Asleep, I guess.  Said she wanted rest, and nobody was to disturb her till we sail.”

“When do we start?”

“Eight o’clock, they say.  That means ten.  Will Dr. Pruyn get here?”

“He isn’t going with us.”

“Oh, no.  I forgot his Dutch permit.  Well, he’d better use it quick, or he’ll go in a box when he does go.  I wouldn’t insure his life for a two-cent stamp in this country.”

“You wouldn’t if you’d seen what I saw last night,” said the Southerner, very low.

Wisner, the busy, efficient little consul, who had been arranging with the officials for Carroll’s embarkation, now returned, bringing with him a viking of a man whom he introduced as Dr. Stark, of the United States Public Health Service.

“Either of you know anything about Dr. Pruyn?” he inquired anxiously.

“He’s on his way down the mountain now,” said Carroll.

“Good!  He’s ordered away, I’m glad to say.  Just got the message.”

“Then perhaps he will go out with us,” said Cluff, with obvious relief.  “I sure did hate to think of leaving that boy here, with the game laws for goggle-eyed Americans entirely suspended.”

“No.  He’s ordered to Curacao to stay and watch.  We’ve got to get him out to the Dutch ship somehow.”

“Couldn’t the yacht take him and transfer him outside?” asked Carroll.

“Mr. Carroll,” said Dr. Stark earnestly, “before this yacht is many minutes out from the dock, you’ll see a yellow flag go up from the end of the corporation pier.  After that, if the yacht turns aside or comes back for a package that some one has left, or does anything but hold the straightest course on the compass for the blue and open sea—­well, she’ll be about the foolishest craft that ever ploughed salt water.”